


muddy boots and achy feet

by eutuxia



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Foot Massage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eutuxia/pseuds/eutuxia
Summary: Len's boots hurt his feet, but Mick knows just how to help.Not that Len will ask him politely.
Relationships: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	muddy boots and achy feet

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [biggayrhys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggayrhys) for the beta!
> 
> This is just a thousand words of fluff. I hope it hits the spot.

Len dropped onto the couch next to Mick, sighing with relief as he let the soft, worn couch cushions absorb the tension of the day from his body. His lips quirked in the barest hint of a smirk as he drew one of his legs up onto the couch, boot and muddy sole and all.

The action got the response he desired as Mick fixed him with a venomous glare and gripped Len's ankle tightly in one hand, lifting it off the couch and then aggressively pulling the laces loose and removing the boot from his foot. "No shoes on the couch," Mick growled before attacking Len's other boot.

But then Mick pulled Len's legs to the side and his feet over his lap. It took all of Len's hard-won self-control not to let his face break into the smug grin he was holding back as Mick pulled his socks off and then dug his fingers into the fleshy underside of Len's foot.

Len couldn't help the groan that escaped him as Mick commenced rubbing his feet, careful to exert firm, precise pressure to the most tender areas. Mick had learned from experience that too light of a touch could ignite Len's secret ticklishness and send his whole body jerking and his foot careening into Mick's jaw. It was best not to risk it.

But the right amount of pressure would have Len melting boneless into the couch cushions under his gentle ministrations. Mick loved hearing his usually so contained partner come undone, and he loved knowing he was the one to make him fall apart like this.

Len wouldn't trust anyone else to see him like this.

"You planned this, didn't you? Putting your muddy boots on the couch just so I," he paused, beginning to punctuate each of his words with a firm stroke to the sole of Len's foot, digging deeper into the spots he knew would make Len melt the fastest. "Would. Do. This."

Len refused to deign Mick's question with an answer and groaned instead, letting his torso fall back against the armrest and throwing his head back as Mick drove his fingers deep into the tender muscles between the tendons in the sole of his foot.

"Yeah, like that, Mickey," Len groaned in approval, shutting his eyes. 

Mick just hummed as he continued to work on Len's feet. "You need new boots," he observed. "These are fucking your feet up."

"Mm," Len hummed noncommittally. He liked his shoes, and as long as he could continue to cajole Mick into rubbing his feet, he didn't have any incentive to get new ones that might not pinch the arch of his feet as badly.

Len could feel himself starting to drift off as Mick exerted careful pressure to the silky underside of Len's arch, careful not to squeeze so hard as to cause Len pain, but keen to remember not to touch too lightly lest he receive a foot to his face. It wouldn't even be intentional, although Len would insist that it was. He refused to acknowledge that he was ticklish, but Mick had long since learned all the spots that would send Len into peals of laughter while also exposing Mick to a risk of great bodily harm.

Len moaned quietly, pushing his foot further into Mick's reach in search of deeper and more targeted pressure. "Feels good," he said, words slurring slightly. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep but wanted to stay awake longer to enjoy this further.

"Falling asleep, Lenny?" Len could hear the barest hint of a chuckle underlying Mick's words.

"Mm, no," Len said, managing to blink his eyes open to prove his point, even though his eyelids did feel heavy, and he really was about to fall asleep if he didn't fight it.

Len protested as Mick released his foot but groaned again in approval when he realized Mick was just turning his attention to his until-then neglected foot. He had broken two of the metatarsals in his foot as a child when a safe had fallen on it and even thirty years later, the long-since healed bones acted up on occasion and caused him pain, especially after a long day or when his boots were laced just a little too lightly.

But as Mick's expert hands dug into the tender and sore tissue of Len's foot, all of that fell away, and Len could actually hear himself whimpering at the first touch that finally began to release the tension that had been building up in his feet during the day and over the course of the last few weeks since the last time he had worked up the courage to annoy Mick into rubbing his feet.

Len felt drunk on it, on Mick's hands digging into all the places where Len hadn't even realized pain had taken up residence in his foot until Mick's calloused fingers began to release it. "Mickey," he moaned again.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, not wanting to risk falling asleep when Mick was paying such careful attention to his feet and making him feel so good and warm all over. At times, the pressure was painful as Mick worked to release the tension in his feet and relieve the sore muscles, but each painful stroke was followed by an equally satisfying release of tension and pleasure.

But right when Len actually did begin to lose his battle with his exhaustion and began to drift off to sleep, unable to keep his eyes open for a moment longer because he felt so absolutely and utterly relaxed, Len heard that that telltale zap of electricity as it entered the room.

 _Fuck._ Len almost felt like he could cry over having the Flash interrupt this, especially right when he was about to fall asleep, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Go _away_ , Scarlet," he ground out. "You're interrupting a very awesome foot rub right now."

Len didn't have to open his eyes to know that Barry was staring at them, mouth probably agape with shock. When he did open his eyes, though, he found his suspicions confirmed: Barry Allen was standing in their living room dressed in his Flash suit, jaw dropped so low it looked like it might fall off.

"Wh—you— _what are you guys doing_?" Barry looked even more disturbed to see them like this than he would if he saw them robbing the Taj Mahal.

"You act like you've never seen a man get a foot rub before," Len observed drolly. Mick didn't cease massaging Len's foot, uncaring at the speedster's interruption.

"I haven't actually, but that's not—that's not the point! You guys are villains!"

"Villains can't get foot rubs?" Len arched an eyebrow.

Barry spluttered. "That's not—come on, I didn't search all over the city for you guys for this!"

"And what _did_ you come here for?" Len questioned. "Want me to break into a military research facility to save your damsel in distress again? Sorry, but I'll pass. Facing one meta-shark was enough for me."

Barry got a shifty look in his eyes. "Okay, so maybe we could really use the cold gun right about now, but I promise there are no meta-sharks this time—"

"Right. Because you were so sure about that last time." It was hard to maintain his cool drawl while Mick was so focused on working the last bits of tension out of his feet, but Len persisted.

"We have a meta who's about to go nuclear; if we don't use the cold gun on him, he could take out the entire Midwest, so I think you have an interest in helping us take him in."

Len sighed. This was not how he had wanted the rest of the evening to go, but Barry drove a hard bargain. He sat up fully, legs still spread across Mick's lap. 

Mick looked at him questioningly, and Len inclined his head. "Get the guns," he said.

He would demand another foot rub later.


End file.
